


Stutter

by GayForWerewolves



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: But its also pretty much just sex, I guess I should warn for emotional incest, Jason's POV, M/M, This is pretty angsty and full of feels, Why yes it is partially based on Maroon 5's "Stutter", but you're reading a Bruce/Jason fic so you probably already know that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayForWerewolves/pseuds/GayForWerewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Jason have an encounter on the top of an apartment building in Gotham. Jason has a lot of feels but like fuck he would ever admit to them, you fuckers. Jason's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stutter

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Maroon 5's Stutter while writing this and Jason's POV was FUN to write in. I will be doing that again. This is most likely going to turn into a whole series of Jason POV stories based on Maroon 5 songs.
> 
> Unbeta'd but with quite a bit of help from my best friend [thecrackshiplollipop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrackshiplollipop/pseuds/thecrackshiplollipop)

Fuck, tonight had been busy. Patrol had already turned up three different gangs that would be speaking the name of The Red Hood in hushed tones for months. So maybe I had stabbed one guy in the face...twice. And maybe I had also shot him in the crotch. God, Bruce would so not approve, awesome. 

I pulled off the hood and ran a hand through my hair. A few loose strands came away with my hand and I frowned at the red roots. Stupid natural hair color; I glared at them before pulling out my lighter and burning them. Hmm...lighter. Now that was an idea.

I pulled my cigarettes out of the inside left breast pocket of my leather jacket and pulled one out of the case with my teeth. I shoved the pack in my back pocket and then lit the cigarette in my mouth, inhaling the first burst of sweet smoke into my lungs with a moan of contentment.

I lean against the high ledge on the roof I am currently gracing and as the ashes on the end of my cigarette flare and more smoke coils lovingly around my head I notice a shadow out of the corner of my eye. Two roofs away. Really Bruce? It’s not like I haven't noticed him stalking me for the majority of the night anyway. I look around and don't see the baby bird anywhere and remember that little D is currently visiting Dickie Bird in Blüdhaven per Bruce’s orders, and Damian’ much vocalized dislike. I’m reminded how much being Robin can suck and I take another long slow drag of nicotine into my lungs.

The living shadow dogging me moves a roof closer. I assume to get a better look and I grin knowingly. Playing Bat and (red hooded) mouse, are we? Oh B, two can so play at that game.

I tilt my neck up invitingly and slowly blow out the smoke I just inhaled before turning to smile seductively cruel in Batman’s general direction and wiggle my fingers in a flirty little wave. The wind blows and I see his cape flutter but he doesn't move. I’m pretty sure that he’s got some kind of magnifier trained on my face so I roll my eyes, put my cigarette between my lips for safe keeping, and move toward the other side of the roof in a mime of leaving. I stretch my arms out above my head and then run a hand through my hair again, arching my back in a stretch, moaning as a few of my vertebrae press against air bubbles and pop back into alignment. There is a flutter of air behind me that a less paranoid and hyper aware person would convince themselves was just the wind howling and I turn around to smirk around my cigarette at my adoptive father and sex in a cape and cowl incarnate, Batman.

“Anyone ever tell you that stalking is not the way to a boy’s heart?” I say as I pull out another cigarette and light it with the end of the first one before dropping the butt and grinding it out with my boot. He stays silent and his hard line of a mouth turns into an actual frown, typical. I take a long drag, knowing that he’s always hated it when I smoke, and let it waft out of my mouth on its own as I saunter towards him, throwing a little extra hip swagger in to my usual stride for good measure.

“Or maybe my heart isn't where you’re trying to get in.” I say once I’m in his personal space and I can't help but give in to the overwhelming urge to blow smoke in his face. Next thing I know he has me crowded up against the roof’s air duct and there’s a tongue in my mouth that isn't my own and hands gripping my hips in an impossibly tight and possessive manner.

“You taste like an ashtray.” he growls at me and bends my wrist to make me drop the cigarette that I’m still holding on to.

“You’re such a romantic.” I quip back, ever the annoying little asshole, thorn in his side, and he just pushes a thigh between my legs and grinds it against my hard on. Because, of course, I’ve been hard since I noticed him watching me. I fail at choking back a moan as he kisses me again, all fierce desperation and biting possessiveness. I roll my hips and his movements falter for a barely noticeable second that I count as a victory and I do it again, smirking against his mouth pressed to mine.

His hand moves to my hair to pull my head to the side to push down the high collar of my Kevlar and leave his marks all over my neck. He finds the side neck zipper and undoes it with his teeth, his hands currently being involved with simultaneously groping my ass and also pushing the hem of the shirt up to rub a rough gloved thumb against my nipple. He finds the sweet spot at the juncture of my shoulder and neck and bites down hard and, fuck, that’s when I know that I’ve lost the game.

I keen, almost a whine, in my throat and then, even though I’ll deny it tooth and nail later, whimper as he licks and sucks at the same spot, forcing the skin to blossom into a livid bruise that will scream his possession of my body to the world. I am now impossibly hard in my jock and it's starting to become painful and this needs to progress to something involving less clothing, like, now.

I wrap a leg around his thighs for leverage and lean up to whisper in his ear.

“Ah, god.” I moan breathily “Fuck me, B. Now.” That should get the desired reaction, and yes, sure enough, not five seconds later I’m shoved around so my front faces the cool metal of the air duct, only slightly warmed from my body pressed against it, and my pants and jock are shoved down around my thighs. I press my hands to the flat surface of the metal and arch my back, the sluttiest, most begging curve to my spine that I can manage. Hell, if I’m gonna give it up, I am not going to make it easy for him to go as slow as he likes to. I hear a warning growl and then he’s biting my neck again and his left hand is gripping my now naked thigh and there will be a hand shaped bruise by the time we’re done. His other hand is now gloveless and I gasp audibly as he breaches me with one thick finger smeared in cold lube. He didn’t even take the time to warm it up. Now who’s winning?

He’s still being infuriatingly slow though so I shift my weight on my hands and grind myself back until I can feel his palm against my skin and his finger is buried deep inside me. He’s groaning lowly against the back of my neck and I can feel him grin sharply and suddenly as he thrusts his finger at just the right angle and I see stars and let out a particularly undignified yelp. Bastard! I try to shift the advantage back to me but he just keeps up the stimulation right to that perfect, awful, wonderful, tortuous spot and I can do nothing but writhe under his hand. One fucking finger. I am losing so badly.

He pulls the finger out suddenly and before I can whine and start crying for him to continue there’s two pushing back in and the stretch and burn of it is fantastic and once again I’m writhing for him. Oh fuck! He’s back to trying to tear me apart with stimulation as his fingers rub slowly and roughly over my prostate and I can feel tears at the edges of my eyes. He shifts and now my head is at the perfect height to throw back against his shoulder so I do and this time when I’m moaning into his ear it's not a tease, but a plea.

“Ah...fuck...ah...B...god please! Please fuck me. Shit! FUCK! I need your cock, please!!!” I whine and beg to him, pressing my face against his neck and inhaling Kevlar and leather and a faint hint of his specific smell. If I was gonna lose this game, I was gonna do it spectacularly. I ground back against his fingers hard, forcing the back of his hand to grind against his still clothed crotch and he grunted at the friction. I’m embarrassingly close to coming when I hear his groan and I let out a choked sob before starting to babble out a litany of pleas.

“Fuck me B please, fuck. Oh shit yes! G-god! Are you trying to make me come from just this because...ah shit! Shit! NnngahhFUCK!” I don't have time to feel embarrassment or shame as my orgasm is ripped out of me from just his fingers, without a single touch to my dick, my come splattering all over the now warmed metal of the air duct. A small part of me that I don't want to acknowledge feels like crying as I come down from the sudden high that was as jarring as a punch to the face. His fingers are still inside me, now just gently thrusting in and out but it’s too much to my over sensitized nerve endings. Thing is, I know we’re not done yet and berate myself for being such a wuss as I wait for him to start up again. He’s giving me a chance to catch my breath and I wish he wouldn’t, at least then I could still pretend that he doesn’t care about me, and that this means nothing but a nice rough fuck battle for fun. I ignore the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes and push myself back against his fingers again, I’m not ready, but I don't want to be ready. I think he knows that because he hesitates for a second or two before he pulls his fingers out and I whimper at the loss before I hear him working to disengage and unarm all the buckles and locks on his suit. Fucking finally.

I flinch when I feel three lube slick fingers at my entrance, that is not what I wanted, I wanted his hard dick slamming into me but he pushes his fingers in without any preamble or mercy and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. He spreads his fingers as wide as he can and the stretch burns but I love it and then he’s pulling them out and I can hear slick noises that sound suspiciously like Batman fucking touching himself.

“You better not be planning on just jerking off onto my back, you asshole. Start what you fucking finish.” I spit out at him and thrust my ass back in a demand to be fucked and I can hear a low frustrated groan utter from the direction of his mouth and a mean grin crosses my face before I feel the blunt head of his cock against my slick and loose hole.

“Yeah. Fuck me B, I know you wa-haa-aaaaaaaant to” He thrusts into me in a rough forceful push, slower than I would like, but faster than my body can handle. Shit, there are tears streaming down my face. I’m glad that he can’t see my face as he pulls out an inch and slams back in but I’m sure he can hear the wet little sobs that are pushing their way out of my throat. I am not crying. At least, not for any stupid emotional reason. I don’t fucking care. It’s just that his dick is really really big and I’m over sensitive and anyone would be in a little pain. Yep. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

My train of thought is jarred back out of my own headspace with a particularly hard thrust and Batman pushing his body tighter against my back and the cool Kevlar pressing against my back feels good to my overheated body. I’m getting hard again, the deep almost painful thrusts catching on my prostate and forcing my dick to rise again. It hurts a lot. I love it.

His hands run up my chest and brush against my nipples, the left one still gloved, the right, still a little slick with lube and the dual sensations send my mouth running.

“Ah shit, B. Fuck! So good. God yes please I-AH! Ah yeah, yeah, yeah right there! Again!” I know I sound like a wanton whore and maybe I am. Anyone in the vicinity can probably hear us and a part of me feels sorry for the people who live in the apartment building that we’re on top of. But that’s what you get for living in Gotham. Vigilantes are going to fuck on your rooftop, it’s just a matter of when and who. I mean, there are a lot of us running around these days. Far from just the Bat and his precious baby Robin. I shudder and I can’t tell if it’s in disgust because I was once that “precious baby” or because he’s changed his angle so that he’s now pushing directly against my prostate with every thrust and he’s wrapped his slick covered hand around my dick. Two pulls and, fuck me, I am embarrassingly close. I can’t be bothered to care much at this point though so I tell him.

“Fu-fuck B, I’m gonna- OH! I’m gonna come!” I writhe in his arms as he scratches his gloved hand over my nipples and digs his thumb into the slit at the tip of my dick. He bites down on my neck again, higher than before and sucks a mark that I won’t be able to cover up with anything but a scarf, and its summer. I curse at him before he moves up to growl in my ear.

“Come for me Jay. Come over my hand and clamp down tight on me.” And with that I’m done, I can’t hold on and my orgasm rips through my body.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckahhh!”

My come splatters against the air duct and runs down over his fingers as he squeezes my dick, trying to milk the last of my seed from my body and I whimper at the sensation. He’s still thrusting, even rougher now, off sync and he’s definitely going to come, and soon.

Despite the discomfort of overstimulation I give my best to him, thrusting my ass back in his direction and trying, mostly in vain, to tighten up the hole he’s fucking. Three more desperate erratic thrusts and I feel him spilling inside. Fuck. It feels good and if we were in a bed and I had a bathroom to clean up in I could just fall asleep I wouldn’t mind. But that’s not our style and I have an hour of patrol left. He’s curled around me, softly rubbing his clean and gloved hand over my stomach. His cape is wrapped around us like a warm protective cocoon. It’s too intimate and I can’t handle it so I push at him to get off me.

“Fuck, you’re heavy, get off.” I quip and he pulls away after I hear a disappointed sigh leave his mouth. I am not paying attention to that. I lie to myself and think it didn’t happen even though I know it did.  
He’s far enough away that I can move now and I pull up my jock and pants, shifting uncomfortably as I feel some of his come drip out of me. I’m canceling the rest of my patrol for the night.

“Well” I start awkwardly as I look over and he’s perfectly put together, the same intimidating figure he always is, no evidence that he just fucked The Red Hood into exhaustion. I probably look like a mess. “That was fun.” I say with a mean sneer, I want him to leave but he doesn’t.

“Wellll I have more bad guys to shoot in the face sooo.” I’m making my way to the fire escape, I have to get away. His frown deepens when I mention shooting people and I think I’ve made my point. But he still doesn’t leave so I jump to the rickety metal stairs and take them two at a time before jumping off the last balcony. My bike is around the corner and soon I’m speeding down the back streets of Gotham, if there are tears in my eyes, that’s my business.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Comments and Kudos are eternal love and will probably convince me to write the second one faster.


End file.
